


Always Gotta Make A Scene

by lookingfortherainbow



Series: Service Kink AU [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, BDSM lifestyle, Bottom Harry Styles, Butt Plugs, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, M/M, Negotiated kink, Porn With Plot, Public Humiliation, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Service Kink, Sort Of, Subspace, Teasing, Top Louis Tomlinson, kind of?, the boys are in the bg only for most of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingfortherainbow/pseuds/lookingfortherainbow
Summary: It was the first time someone had addressed Harry in fifteen minutes, and Louis watched with what he knew was a devilish grin as the boy collected himself impressively quickly.“‘S okay,” he rasped out, voice thin and strained, giving Oli a twitchy smile.He was about to turn to watch the scenery again, but his gaze locked on Louis’..Or, Louis pushes Harry a little further than usual. If their friends happen to be witness to it, well, that's just a bonus.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Service Kink AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026948
Comments: 18
Kudos: 166





	Always Gotta Make A Scene

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this little plot bunny running through my head the whole time I was writing the first fic in this series, and I thought why not try my hand again at some semi-public service kink? Apologies if it's a little shaky. This can be read as a stand-alone. I had fun with this, and I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Title is from the song Sour by Stef.

“You’re sure this is ok by, like, doctor’s standards? I mean, you talked to your mum, as well, and everything?” Harry asked for what must’ve been the millionth time that night.

Louis rolled his eyes, shaking his head at his boyfriend fondly. “Yes, H, I talked to her on the phone just today. You were there, remember?”

It had been three whole glorious, and painstakingly slow, weeks of bedrest since he’d first gotten injured. Truthfully, he had no reason to complain. Not even about the damn itchy cast on his leg. He and Harry had settled so comfortably into a relationship after their little adventure in the shower stalls that Louis almost felt like he should thank whatever powers that be for the fact that his one leg was absolutely useless. It made sex difficult sometimes, but then again, he wouldn’t even be having to figure out different angles to lay in, or situate Harry above him, if it hadn’t been for the fact he’d gotten severely injured.

He’d never predicted that sixty-nineing would become an essential position in his sex life, but then again he’d never predicted that he’d find out Harry’s refractory period was basically nonexistent. Or that doing anything that meant serving Louis like he was his personal handmaid was enough to get him chubbed up like he was a horny 14 year old, popping boners left and right. 

Still, Louis needed to get out of his room, and he’d been given the go ahead by his doctor--and Mum--to go for a drive to the hole in the wall pub him and his mates loved so much. 

“Would you hurry it up out there, ‘m fucking hungry,” Liam called from the driver’s seat. 

Niall’s laugh filled up the whole tiny interior of the car and spilled out from the open backseat door. Oli was texting on his phone next to him, Zayn struggling with the seatbelt in the passenger seat. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Payno,” Louis sighed, thrusting his crutches at Harry. 

Harry didn’t need words--the slight nod to the car’s floor and the expectant expression on his face was enough to get him to put the crutches down alongside the boys’ feet. Louis smoothed his palm over his boyfriend’s back the whole time, feeling out the shifting muscles beneath the sweater. He patted him on the bum, another signal. 

“Up you go,” he tacked on. 

“Oli, budge over,” Niall urged his friend. 

This wasn’t the first time they’d all had to cram into the deathtrap Liam called his car. Literally--the boy had named it The Deathtrap. 

“‘S’not necessary, lads,” Louis reassured, watching in fond amusement as Harry folded those model legs into the car. “I’m sitting on Harry’s lap.”

Zayn was the first voice of reason that scolded Louis for being extra unsafe, saying that he’d lurch forward a lot easier on Harry, than if he was squished in between the door and Harry. And the rest of the boys joined in, Harry being the last to agree. Somehow, the protests turned into arguing that made Louis’ skull thrum with the threat of a headache. Against everyone’s previous suggestions, Louis hopped up onto Harry’s lap with his good leg, closing the door behind him. Harry’s arms were enveloping him, chest warm against his back. Much to his chagrin, he was the only one still telling Louis that Zayn was right. 

“Hey,” Louis said, voice low and stern in Harry’s ear, back of his head facing Oli and Niall. 

Not that they’d have the perception to notice _anything_ nuanced--what with how Oli was arguing with everyone else about whether school buses in America should have seatbelts or not--but _still._ His friends were idiots up until the exact moment they needed to be, so he wasn’t risking it.

And just like he was pressing some invisible button, Harry’s mouth clamped shut, eyes bright and face open. Louis continued, “You’re going to wrap the seatbelt around the both of us. It’s actually safer this way. Now, I’m not to hear another peep out of you the whole way.”

A curl of heat spiraled up Louis’ spine as he watched Harry nod slow, wrapping the seatbelt around them without taking his eyes off Louis.

“Good boy. Always so deft with those hands,” Louis cooed, brushing a hand through his curls and giving a soft tug. 

He watched the lazy smile spread over Harry’s face, reveled in his slow blink up at Louis. 

The drive to the pub wasn’t too long, but it was horribly bumpy, and Louis took notice, halfway through, of the change in Harry’s breathing as he sat back against his chest after leaning forward for quite some time. He didn’t need to guess the reason why, because the answer was pressing up against the cleft of his arse. Harry’s nimble fingers were skittering along the outsides of Louis’ jogger clad thighs, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the holes that Liam’s Deathtrap was jostling in and out of. 

Well, he hadn’t planned on this earlier, but this was an opportunity so golden he’d be robbing himself if he didn’t take it. 

“. . .and you’ve had your pick of the songs we’ve played the last few times we’ve driven together,” Zayn was complaining from the passenger seat in front of Louis and Harry’s.

“Oi, you gimme those CD’s! I’m playing whatever the hell I want. I’m oldest, afterall,” Louis argued, jumping back into the conversation. 

_“Actually,_ I’m playing what I want, because I’m the driver,” Liam interjected. 

Louis leaned forward, arching his back artfully, his arse pressing deeper into Harry’s shifting groin. His next move, flinging his arms over Zayn’s seat to grab at the CD book in the raven-haired boy’s hands, served to both agitate Zayn and rile Harry up further. Zayn was swatting at Louis’s flailing arms, making him shift and jump in Harry’s lap, right up against that hot line of cock contained in his too-tight jeans. 

“Yeah, I’m not listening to Oasis or Fleetwood Mac _again,”_ Oli chimed in. “Full offense, Louis. No offense, Harry,” he joked, turning to Harry, patting him on the arm. 

Just then, The Deathtrap ran over a particularly large hole in the road, and Louis looked over his shoulder watching as Harry shut his eyes, lips wet and forming a perfect ‘O’. Louis knew that buttplug he put in Harry beforehand was going to put him to the test tonight. He _didn’t_ expect that his stomach would feel as shaken up as the car they were in right now as he watched Harry struggle with the sensation of it. 

It was the first time someone had addressed Harry in fifteen minutes, and Louis watched with what he knew was a devilish grin as the boy collected himself impressively quickly. 

“‘S okay,” he rasped out, voice thin and strained, giving Oli a twitchy smile. 

He was about to turn to watch the scenery again, but his gaze locked on Louis’. Louis took his time studying him--the damp, miniscule drops of sweat beading on his forehead, collecting around the bandana wrapped round his hair, the flush high on his cheeks, the glassy quality of his eyes that he got whenever he started losing a bit of his sensibility to whatever overwhelming stimulation he was experiencing. 

Oli had, without knowing, just made his experience that much more intense. He knew Harry prided himself on taking on a challenge. And nothing said determination and self-control like talking to your friend while a buttplug bumped against your prostate, your boyfriend sitting on your clothed dick. The best part was that Louis knew this show of character was all for him. Only by impressing Louis could Harry get any real satisfaction out of this kind of situation. 

Making sure Harry got the message that he was pleased with him, Louis ground back on him, keeping his gaze steady. He watched, a fever building in his stomach, how Harry’s mouth opened on a ragged breath too quiet for anyone to hear unless they were watching him like a hawk--as Louis was doing. 

Despite the glorious site, he turned back to the seats in front of him, leaning far over and trying to reach the stereo to turn off Boyz II Men. The stupid flings and swats that Zayn and him were engaging in would’ve been a lot funnier had Harry not started pulling desperately at the hem of Louis’ shirt, fingertips accidentally sliding under now and again, bumping against his bare skin with each jolt and slide of Louis’ arse on his lap. 

_“Louis,_ stop it!” Zayn was whining, laughter coming out at the end.

“You all should be ashamed of yourself for insulting my music taste,” Louis crowed, flinging back against Harry’s chest. 

Wrapping his arms around Louis’ hips, Harry held onto him like he was going to run away--as if the seatbelt keeping them locked together would allow anything like that. This close with Harry resting his lips against his neck, wet panting hitting the skin and making it goosebump all the way down his back, Louis could hear how Harry was starting to lose it. When his hips started rutting up in tiny increments, Louis could _feel_ it. With a steady hand stroking through his curls, he turned to whisper hotly into Harry’s ear. 

“Pull it together, baby. We’re almost there. You don’t want to get out of this car hard, in front of all the boys, do you?”

A feeble, soft sound slipped from Harry’s lips as his hips jerked up at the words, jostling Louis. His eyes slipped shut, and Louis just _knew_ that he was picturing the humiliating scenario in his mind. With a huff, like he was pulling himself from his daydream, and remembered he had Louis to please, his rutting slowed until he stopped. Louis hummed, scratching at his skull, wishing he could kiss him then. 

Only, they hadn’t told their friends about their new development in their relationship. It wasn’t that they wanted to keep it a secret, simply moreso that they’d been so caught up in each other they hadn’t given themselves time to deal with it. Harry had, more or less, moved into Louis’ dorm, and that meant Louis was using only half his brain most of the time since his blood headed south more often than was healthy. 

So, given no obvious shows of affection like kissing or making out would be appropriate right now, Louis settled on praising Harry in quiet tones that the lads were unaware of, too caught up in singing to the tune on the stereo. 

Once they’d arrived, everyone piled out, proclaiming what they were getting, reiterating how starved they were. Louis steadied himself with a hand on the car when he hopped off Harry.

“‘S’okay, I know you can get it together,” Louis urged, fixing his hair casually as Harry looked at him, panic in his eyes, scarlet flush of embarrassment coloring his cheekbones.

He watched in fascination as Harry’s eyes darted from Louis to his lap to the lads that were all hanging around outside the car, waiting for them, caught up in their own conversations. He pressed the heel of his palm against his straining erection, big palm then attempting to adjust it. Louis’ insides spasmed at the sight, loving how unravelled Harry was. 

“Oi, Lou, d’y’need your crutches?” Oli asked, looking concerned as Louis was standing like a flamingo outside the opened door. 

“Nah, not necessary. Harry’s going to carry me.” Louis waved his hand, dismissing his question. He turned to his boyfriend who had resorted to pulling the hem of his shirt down over his crotch as he climbed stiffly out of the car. 

The sunset was burning red, and the last few rays of the day highlighted the sheen of sweat glistening on Harry’s neck and collarbones. It was getting chilly outside, so Louis knew it had nothing to do with the weather. 

At the hidden command, Harry perked up, eyes clearing somewhat. “Yeah, I’m--I’m going to,” he breathed. 

Eagerly, he turned his pliant boyfriend around, pressing down on his shoulders so Harry crouched, making it easier to jump onto his back with one leg. Harry carried him carefully into the pub, grip around Louis’ thighs strong, even if his legs wobbled a little every now and then. The lads made their way in ahead of the two, and Louis took the chance to press his mouth against Harry’s ear, hands smoothing over the planes of his chest. 

“Handling this so well, love. The lads aren’t suspecting a thing. Don’t know that you’ve got something snug up in that pretty little arse of yours. But I do. I know you wanna come so bad, baby, but you’re not going to. You’re going to hold _all_ that come in your balls for me. Like a good boy, yeah?” 

Harry tripped as he followed the group to a secluded spot in the back, and Louis didn’t quiet the chiding laugh he let out. He knew it’d only serve to make Harry that much more of a lovely mess. 

Throughout the meal, Louis ordered Harry to do small things, watching with a burning ball of fire in his stomach that grew with time, how his boyfriend--no, _servant_ \--was glowing with zeal to complete every task, pupils eclipsing the green of his irises as he stared at Louis intensely, waiting for his next command. 

Louis ordered him to get all of them drinks as they first sat down. When the food arrived, he told him, irritation in his voice, that he needed to clean the table of all the little paper straw coverings and the sticky paper that held napkins and utensils together. 

“In a bin. Where else?” Louis scoffed, raising his eyebrows at Harry in disapproval when he’d asked where he was supposed to throw it. 

“Sorry, Lou,” Harry apologized, casting his eyes down, letting the shame wash over him for not completing an order flawlessly. 

He’d made Harry put ketchup on his burger, ordered him to get him a bowl of lemons from the bar up front, settled his bad leg right over his half-chubbed groin while they were eating, and when the boys all agreed they wanted another round of drinks, he’d sent Harry off to the bar again. 

He watched Harry’s pert arse with perverse concentration, knew all the movement and walking back and forth was jostling that plug with the jeweled end around in ways that would make someone of weaker will run to the bathroom and relieve himself of the tension. 

When he turned back to engage in conversation with everyone, he was met by Liam’s raised brows. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Just seems Harry is a bit keen on acting like your personal waiter.” Liam shrugged, eating the last of his chips. 

“He’s a helpful one, is all,” Louis insisted.

“What does he get out of it?” Liam pushed. 

“What do you mean?”

“He’s doing all this shit for _you,_ so what does _he_ get out of it? Like, is he trying to win some bet or game or summat?” Liam asked, eyes far too analytical as stared at Louis. 

“He gets the satisfaction of being a good friend,” Louis replied, swirling his straw in his glass of water. 

Liam snorted, a smirk on his face that Louis feigned annoyance at, considering the dirty lilt to it. 

“Right, _okay,”_ Liam agreed, chuckling. His tone indicated he was feeling the exact opposite. 

Once Harry had brought half the drinks over, their waitress stopped him from going back for the rest. 

“I can bring the drinks to you, you know,” she said, smiling at Harry. 

Harry looked like he’d been caught red handed doing something highly illegal, eyes all wide and alarmed. 

“He can handle it,” Louis answered for him from where he was taking in the scene from his seat, leg stretched out on Harry’s empty seat, eyes trained on the waiter, and decidedly not on Harry. 

“Well, alright. Let me know if you do need any help,” she said.

“He won’t,” Louis interrupted again. Turning to Harry, he ordered, “Go fetch me the rest of the drinks, love. Finish what you were doing.”

It was a risky thing to do, what with how not only Liam _and_ the waitress was staring at him, but the rest of their friends had gone silent now, too. It was worth it though, because Harry was cherry-red, neck an even deeper shade of ruby, and his jaw had gone slack. He was so beautiful in the dim lighting of the pub, a priceless piece of art against a dingy backdrop. Louis wanted to sit and marvel at his beauty for the rest of his life. 

The movement of Harry leaving to follow Louis’ order caused everyone to break out of the weird, frozen silence that had settled over them. Once everyone was sipping on their beverages, Harry settled back into his seat, gingerly placing Louis’ injured leg over him. Everyone had moved on to discuss their latest assignments in school, and Harry leaned over to speak to Louis quietly.

“Is your leg ok? Can I do anything to position it better?” Harry asked. 

Louis pinched his cheek, and soothed it with a caress. “No, love. You enjoy yourself, now.”

“Have been,” Harry breathed out in a rush, and Louis watched hungrily as his palm rubbed in an aborted movement over his dick. 

God, he was so _bold_ even in public. Louis adored that about him. How his charming social skills took a backseat to his unchecked lust. He was unabashed in his need, and nothing made Louis’ skin itch with want more than that. 

Louis leaned over in a smooth move, grabbing his fork. To anyone else it’d look like he was simply eating the remnants of Harry’s breaded fish, but underneath the table he knocked Harry’s hand away to replace it with his own. Squeezing hard and giving a slight rub over the hot line of his growing cock had Harry tensing up like he’d been electrocuted. Louis paid no mind to the reaction, simply glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. It only made Harry that much more desperate--the indifference. 

“Lovely little slut,” Louis murmured, low enough that only Harry could hear. 

A whimper spilled from his mouth. Louis sat back, eyes roaming over his tense form. His breathing was harsh, and he’d begun to squirm in his seat. Louis couldn’t help his cheeky hum, watching as Harry pleaded with his eyes, powerless to do anything else. 

“Harry. I think you’re forgetting an important job,” Louis murmured, low. 

“What?” Harry asked, fear in his voice, because not completing a task was one of the worst things imaginable when he was in this state--especially since it meant disappointing Louis. 

“Look at the table,” he said, leaning forward because no one was meant to hear his words but him. “Do you think good boys leave tables all messy like that?”

Harry’s breath stuttered into a quick rhythm, smooth forehead scrunching with worry lines as he swallowed hard and started placing everyone’s utensils onto their plates. No one noticed how he was stacking everything, tidying their messy table like he was getting paid to do it. 

“I don’t know how Harry’s been handling ethics, but I think taking classes on that would make me want to drop out altogether,” Niall said.

It took a few moments for Harry to realize that his friends were all staring at him, and he shook his head a little to regain composure. 

“‘S not s’bad,” he slurred. His speech became badly affected when he was so far up in his head and close to coming. 

Louis couldn’t be arsed to care about the rest of the conversation, too focused on the way Harry’s hips jerked back and forth in tiny increments. To others, these antics went unnoticed, but Louis was tuned into Harry’s every action like his body was programmed to track him. He’d arched his back at an angle, and Louis knew exactly where the plug was nudging him. 

_“How?_ I’ve seen you walking around with those ginormous assignments!” Niall exclaimed. 

“Dunno. Don’t really mind it,” Harry mumbled, picking up everyone’s napkins to put it on the leaning tower of plates he’d made in the middle, focused on his chore even when he was carrying a conversation. 

Under the guise of fixing his cast, Louis leaned over. Taking the opportunity Harry was basically offering up to him with how his cute bum was angled, Louis reached around and pressed hard on the plug inside. 

The reaction was instantaneous, and Louis had the wherewithal to rest a palm over where the head of Harry’s cock was struggling against the denim of his jeans. His stomach bottomed out at the feeling of wet warmth spreading under two layers of cloth. The kid was coming practically untouched into his pants in a pub where anyone could look over and see. Louis felt a bit faint, shook his head in wonder at Harry’s sharp inhale, the way he readily accepted whatever Louis gave him. It was like his body existed for Louis to manipulate and overwhelm--bend this way and that--to see what ministrations on him produced the best results. That thought never failed to make him feel feral with power, thrills running up his limbs like an electric wire ran through them and ultimately connected to Harry’s every reaction.

Harry made a weird, short sound, and Louis was close enough to feel the shivers and trembles shortaging through his nerve endings, making his skin twitch. He was struggling against the onslaught of noises and movements that wanted to erupt outwards. Accidentally knocking silverware off the tower of plates, his palms slapped onto the top of the table.

Before this, Louis had never expected him to come quietly, and he was surprised at his servant's self-restraint. Niall was still going on about Harry’s workload, when the fork clattered against the tabletop.

“Alright?” Oli asked him, everyone noticing the random clatter, as well as Harry’s hunched and stiff posture. 

“Yeah,” his voice trembled, Louis rubbing his palm over his softening cock. 

Before they left, he’d have to wrap the hoodie that was currently around his waist, around _Harry’s,_ if he was going to successfully cover the large wet spot on the front of his jeans. He pushed a palm against Harry’s belly, signaling for him to sit back. Angling himself so as not to disturb the plug inside him too much, he obeyed and slumped into the chair. 

“Just--just remembered that I, like, have another, um, quiz, um, this week,” he fumbled out, voice all reedy, and nothing like how he normally sounded. 

Louis would later congratulate him on his improv skills. For now, though, he smiled at Harry as the boy was looking at him, eyes glossy and lips wet with saliva. 

“You’ve nothing to worry about, darling,” Louis said, only glancing once at their friends, hands massaging his scalp, his back. “Such a good lad with all your tasks. Finish everything with such ease. Do everything so perfectly.”

His tone was going all soft, and he hated that he couldn’t do more. But this was the best he could manage at giving Harry praise for _coming right under their friend’s noses._ Given the _very public_ setting, he didn’t think his full-blown aftercare routine would be acceptable to act on at the moment. 

Harry preened under the attention, dopey smile on his face. Pressing his head up into the pressure of Louis’ blunt nails skidding through his curls, he hummed. Honestly, he’d never understand what he did to deserve this boy.

“Well, maybe if I had someone to massage me hair like that I’d be better in my classes, too,” Zayn teased, poking fun at how touchy-feely the two in front of him were. 

“Yeah, Louis, what else do you encourage him with?” Liam laughed. 

“You don’t want to know, Li,” Harry slurred, dopey smile turning cheeky. 

That goddamn dimple was popping, and all Louis’ debauched mind could think of was how good it’d looked last night with Louis’ come slipping down into it. He pressed a thumb into the dip of it. 

With his eyes drooping, Harry was looking at Louis like he was the meaning to life. Louis wanted to show him that to Louis, Harry was the answer to all of life’s problems. In fact, he’d lost all interest in being at the pub. All he wanted was to get Harry naked and under his covers, cuddle him, kiss and bite him until his lips were that ungodly shade of red and purple, and spill every loving word he’d had to hold back tonight over every inch of his skin. Right after he spilled _something else_ on him, because his own stiff cock had been that sore shade of red and purple for too long now. 

On the drive home, Harry was so spacey he kissed Louis right on the lips--in front of everyone. Their friends didn’t even have the decency to act surprised. Louis didn’t have the decency to resist making out with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com/) !


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